Chapter 81 – The Dark Reality
The streets of Cleaica were quiet under the pale morning sky. Too quiet.
Markets stood open, stalls of fruit and bread lined neatly, yet no laughter or bargaining filled the air. Instead, mothers pulled their children closer, and eyes darted to corners where men in dark suits lingered with unreadable smiles. CP9 agents, blending into the crowd like shadows stitched into daylight.
Arthur noticed them instantly. His Observation Haki traced every heartbeat within fifty meters. Too steady, too controlled—trained killers, not civilians. He didn't react outwardly; instead, he kept walking with his crew, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.
"Don't stare too long," Arthur murmured low enough only Lisa and Surv could hear. "The wolves will bite if they feel watched."
Lisa's brow furrowed. She tugged her cloak tighter. "I counted at least six. They're not even hiding. It's like they want people to see them."
"Fear works better when the leash is visible," Arthur said.
Surv's hands twitched, sparks of static whispering across her fingertips. She glared at a CP9 agent smiling at a little girl who hurried past with a loaf of bread. "I hate this. They're hunting kids with their eyes."
"Control yourself," Arthur said firmly. His tone wasn't harsh—it was the tone of a captain who knew when to bite back and when to wait. "Not yet. If you explode now, we lose the element of timing."
Surv ground her teeth, but she obeyed.
---
As they turned down a narrower street, the sound of muffled cries echoed. Arthur stopped, eyes narrowing.
Down the alley, two CP9 agents shoved children into the back of a covered wagon. Their mothers begged, clawing at the men's suits, only to be struck down by casual fists.
"Tribute," one agent said coldly, adjusting his tie. "The king decrees. These brats will remind the people what happens when taxes fall short."
The children were gagged, their terrified eyes searching for someone—anyone—to help.
Surv snapped.
Electricity burst from her skin, the air crackling sharp like a thunderstorm. "You bastards!" she roared, stepping forward.
Arthur's hand caught her shoulder like an anchor. His eyes, sharp and steady, locked onto hers. "Not yet."
Surv's lips trembled. "Arthur, they're—those are kids! Look at them!" Her voice cracked. "We can't just watch—"
"We won't," Arthur said, tone low but unwavering. "But if we strike now, with just us, the city burns around us before we're ready. Timing wins wars. Do you want to save ten kids, or an entire kingdom?"
Surv froze, teeth gritted, tears of fury stinging her eyes. She wanted to blast the agents into ash. But Arthur's words drilled deep.
Hiroshi's hand rested gently on her arm. "Hold it in. You'll get your storm."
The agents shoved the wagon door shut, laughing cruelly at the mothers' wails. The cart rattled away.
Leo's hands clenched so hard blood seeped from his palms. His voice was hoarse. "This is the same as fifteen years ago."
Arthur turned to him. "Tell me."
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Flashback – Fifteen Years Ago
The tavern's back room was dim, lit only by a single oil lamp. Leo's voice trembled as he spoke, but his eyes stared past the crew—back into memory.
"I was six. My father was a carpenter. Strong, stubborn, always smiling. He hated the king's tribute… hated how the Celestial Dragon took everything."
The scene shifted in his mind:
Leo's father, broad-shouldered with sawdust in his beard, kneeling in their small home. His calloused hands ruffled little Leo's silver-streaked hair.
"Listen, boy," he whispered, pressing a small wooden toy axe into his son's hands. "The world is heavy. Heavier than you know. But never let it break you. Promise me."
"Papa… why do they hurt everyone?" little Leo asked, voice small.
His father's jaw tightened. "Because monsters sit on thrones. They dress like men, but they eat dreams."
That night, Leo had watched his father gather with neighbors in secret. Quiet songs of rebellion, whispered plans to resist the tribute. His father's axe, once for wood, sharpened for battle.
The rebellion lasted three days.
Leo remembered fire, screams, Marines swarming the streets. CP9 agents cutting down men with inhuman speed. His father stood in the square, axe blazing in both hands, Haki rippling weak but fierce.
He fought until his body was riddled with bullets. He laughed, even as he bled. "This kingdom… will breathe again."
The last thing Leo saw was his father falling to his knees, smiling at him. "Sing for them, Leo. If you can't fight, then sing."
Tears streamed down Leo's face as he returned to the present. His hand shook against the strings of his instrument. "They executed him in front of us. My mother tried to shield me. They threw her in prison. My siblings too. And I—" He clenched his teeth. "I sang in the streets to survive. Every song I play carries his voice."
Silence. Heavy, crushing.
Then Arthur spoke softly. "Your father didn't fall for nothing. His fire's alive in you. And soon, in this kingdom again."
Leo's lips trembled. "But how do you fight gods, Arthur? How do you fight people who are untouchable?"
Arthur leaned forward, his gaze steel. "You don't fight gods. You drag them down from the sky and make them bleed like men."
Leo's breath caught. Something unshakable settled in him.
---
Lisa: She bit her lip, eyes softening. She'd been the cautious one, always reminding Arthur of consequences. But looking at Leo, at the hollowed eyes of mothers on the street… she felt her resolve shifting. Maybe he's right. Maybe waiting for the 'right time' only makes chains heavier.
Surv: Her fists still sparked, anger burning hot. But Leo's story dug deep. I've always been selfish with my power. I shocked Marines because I was angry, not because I was fighting for someone. But… if I can give kids like Leo a chance to smile, then maybe my storm means something.
Rio: He drank deeply, grimacing. He hated oppression, hated Marines, hated rules—but he never had the words to express it. Leo's grief reminded him of his own village's slaughter. He sighed, muttering, "Guess we're really gonna war with the world, huh?"
Hiroshi: He smirked faintly, resting his sword on his shoulder. He saw in Leo the same fire he once carried before Arthur dragged him from despair. This crew isn't just pirates anymore. We're a blade pointed at kings.
Clover: Adjusting his spectacles, he whispered, "History repeats. Unless someone interrupts the cycle. That's what Arthur's doing—he's writing a new page."
---
The next day, posters lined every wall:
"The Silverhair Pirates spotted in Cleaica! Reward offered by the Celestial Dragon for their capture. Wealth and nobility await!"
Citizens whispered nervously, torn between fear and hope. Some glanced at Leo when he played music in the square—notes sharper, louder, carrying defiance.
That afternoon, Surv saw it happen again. CP9 dragging another group of children away as "tribute." This time, something inside her snapped in a different way—not raw rage, but a clear decision.
She turned to Arthur. "If we don't move soon, there won't be anyone left to save."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. He glanced at Leo, who stood strumming furiously, a tear slipping unnoticed down his cheek.
Arthur nodded once. "Then we start tomorrow."
Leo stopped playing, looking up sharply. His voice cracked. "You mean it?"
Arthur's smirk was sharp as a blade. "You asked how to fight gods? Watch closely. We're going to cut one down."
---
That night, while the crew planned in secret, far out at sea, golden light shimmered across the waves.
Kizaru stood on the bow of his warship, sunglasses reflecting the moon. His voice was lazy, but his smile sharp.
"Fufufu… it seems the Silverhair boy's making trouble again. Toppling kings, stirring rebellions… ah, how bothersome." He stretched languidly, his body flickering into pure photons for a moment.
The Marines around him stiffened. "Admiral Kizaru, orders?"
Kizaru tilted his head. "Orders? Oh dear, I suppose we'll see if this little silver flame can survive when the light comes for him."
The horizon glowed faintly gold. Cleaica's doom approached with the speed of light.
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